Music doesn’t ask for permission. It just walks in, uninvited, and owns you. Cuts through the noise like it’s nothing, grabs you by the guts. The day? It’s often heavy, with the kind of weight you can’t shake off. Then some song plays, and for a few minutes, it’s like the world forgets to crush you. It’s not magic. It’s more brutal than that. It’s real.

I’ve been through days where waking up felt like punishment. Everything, everyone, was just too damn much. And then, there was music – the only thing that didn’t ask anything from me. It’s not like some medicine I swallow or smear on my skin. It’s sharper. It gets inside, wrecks me, and somehow stitches me back together.

Sometimes, a song I’ve heard a million times suddenly feels like it was made just for me. A few chords, a guitar riff, and it’s enough. More than people, more than their hollow words. Music doesn’t lie. It doesn’t wear masks.

But I have also come across people who’re not interested in songs or music. Perhaps, they don’t have a taste. They’ve never let music devour them. But me? I’ve been saved by it. Multiple times. Over and over again.